


Build Up Hell

by Long_May_She_Reign



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anarchists, Anarchy, Aztec, Aztec culture, Blood, Castles, Chaos, Dark, Death, Depression, Despair, F/M, Falling Kingdoms - Freeform, Fiction, Graphic Violence, History, History Changed, History rewritten, Hope, King - Freeform, Love, Other, Parallel Universe, Parallel world, Rebellion, Romance, Violence, War, ancient cultures, changed history, coup, cultures rewritten, fallen kingdoms, graphic death, historic events, if this happened in history, kingdom - Freeform, kings - Freeform, light - Freeform, takeover, towers, what if
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:25:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Long_May_She_Reign/pseuds/Long_May_She_Reign
Summary: In a time where history is on the brink of being rewritten, the victors get to decide what story gets told. But in a time and place where subjugation and complete government control is the order of the day, how much must you lose before you can win? And, is a victory where nothing you love is safe and everything around you withers away like a flower underneath the winter sun a victory at all? Eisem, who is caught in that very world, will play the odds- and he will either gain everything or suffer unspeakable loss for it.





	1. Woe

Chapter 1: Woe  
It is a bleak day in Provien. A darker, cloudier day has likely never been seen before. It is the perfect day for the Callas. If we, the people of Provien are lucky enough, the Soliv’s will drown in the gloominess of the day and the Callas will never happen. We will not be, because on this day thousands and thousands of Provien’s will gather to prepare for the biggest event of the year; we will all be forced into what is called the Pizarr, a beautiful building that appears to be harmless, in order to participate in what the Soliv’s refer to as the Marking. To those who truly knew the terrors of it, it is called the Callas. In there countless horrors will take place as we are forced to spill our fellow citizen’s blood. We do this every year as a sacrifice to appease our Gods and to prove to our government that we are good brainwashed citizens. This year, around thirty thousand young Provien’s will enter the Pizarr to fight for their lives- even fewer will come out.  
As if this isn’t enough, while all the people capable of protecting their families are gone, representatives of the government will come and “clean”. This is where they sweep through the village and carry off anyone deemed undesirable by our government. The sick, the old and the disabled will all be gone when the Callas ends in three days time. We’re told that they go to comfortable lives. Everyone in Provien knows better, because no one who has been taken is ever seen again. It is ironic that after surviving starvation, freezing winters, disease, and the Callas for twenty years, Provien’s still do not get the chance to enjoy a long and peaceful life. Yet we fight regardless, as if those few extra years make a difference in the grand scheme of things.  
At the fireplace, my mother flipped the bacon she was preparing and started humming a merry tune.  
“Breakfast is almost ready, Eisem.” She chirped.  
That is my mother for you. Still attempting to remain cheery so I won’t drift into one of my moods. I suppose I should pretend to be grateful. I force a smile.  
“That’s great, Mom. I’ll go ahead and set the table.” I got up and started towards the plates. They had their own special spot on the floor in the corner. She seemed to hear the tension in my voice and, turning, she looked at me. Seeing my smile, she sighed and brushed her hair out of her eyes.  
“Eisem… you don’t need to pretend with me. I’m your mother.”  
I dropped the pretense. There is no bothering with her. The smile slid off my face as quickly as waves over the shore, leaving only its ghostly imprint as proof that it had ever been there.  
She pulled me into an embrace, squeezing me gently as if scared that I would break. Stretching to reach, she gave my cheek a motherly kiss.  
“We’ll be okay. We always survive.” she whispered to me reassuringly, saying all the words that I so desperately longed to hear. If only they weren’t just words.  
“You go sit,” she said, sensing that they are not enough this year. “I’ll set the table.”  
Listening to her, I went and sat at the rickety three-legged excuse for a table. It wasn’t even worthy enough to place in a barn- if we had to get rid of it, we would only be able to sell it as firewood, and a poor excuse for that it would be.  
My mom placed the platter of bacon and eggs in front of me. They broke our budget, but if you know a day might be your last, you eat like royalty and forget everything else. She sat down beside me and started to break some pieces off of a slice of bread.  
I rolled my eyes in exasperation and sat my fork down. “Mom,” I began, “What is that?”  
She looked down at the bread and back up at me like a Provien caught with a gold piece. “You need your energy more than I do.” she defended herself.  
“Gods mom, did you give me all the bacon and eggs?” I asked in disbelief.  
“Eisem, please,” she begged me as her way of answering. “Don’t make a big deal out of this. You need it more than I do.”  
“No, I can’t. I can’t mom. You deserve it more than I do.”  
Her eyes widened at me. “Eisem, don’t you say that,” she warned, “you’re my son and I would do anything for you. This meal is nothing to me! I don’t need it. You eat, enjoy it while you can. Please, let’s just not talk about it anymore. Just eat.”  
I looked back and forth between her and the plate, torn between doing the right thing and not upsetting her.  
“You’d best dig in, the bells about to ring.” she cautioned, seeing my indecision. With that, I started to eat and let everything else drift. She isn’t the type to be persuaded once she has her mind set on something, especially whenever it pertains to the welfare and happiness of her children. I would only be wasting my breath if I kept pushing her.

Thirty minutes later, I am dressed and ready to go. My mother trailed behind me as I started for the door.  
“Do you have your bow?” she questioned.  
“It’s hanging on my back, ma.” I sighed loudly, trying to disparage her from pulling her usual stunt of ask-Eisem-a-million-questions-before-he-leaves-for-the-Callas.  
“Your canteen?” she pressed on, ignoring the sigh.  
“At my hip.” I muttered, trying to reach the door.  
“Your extra knife?”  
“It broke.” I gritted my teeth. This was going to be another year with the incessant questions, meant to delay me in reaching the Pizarr. There is no way I can avoid it- it irritates me to no end. I love my mother, and am grateful she cares about me so much, but the Callas isn’t a good time for me; it doesn’t make me want to hold my loved ones close and cry into their shoulders as I tell them how much they mean to me. Instead, it makes me want to shut them all out. Eventually they will die, or I will die. To go numb in that moment when you know it is likely you will lose them is the best way to insure that no one gets hurt. My mom is the exact opposite, and always tries to get me to open up to her on this day.  
“What about your blanket?” she is practically sobbing at this point, sensing my impatience to go, and I am getting more and more frantic to leave. I know what is about to happen, and I am using every ounce of my strength to prevent myself from running.  
“Yes, ma!”  
“Eisem!” she cried out despairingly, right as my hand reached the doorknob.  
“WHAT, MOM?”  
“You’re the only one I have left out of four kids. I love you, and I can’t lose another kid before my time,” she sobbed. “Stay safe.”  
I softened for a moment. I decided that, just for a second, I would let my guard down and my true emotions show. I could afford that- I wasn’t killing anyone yet.  
“I will never give up. Don’t worry about me, Ma. I’m a survivor. Focus on yourself and avoiding the cleaners.”  
“I promise I will. Now, run, so you won’t be late. You know what they do to those people.” knowing full well what she meant, I started out the door. Whether I went to victory or my untimely demise, well, that remained to be seen.


	2. Gates to Hell

Chapter 2: Gates to Hell  
The bells were tolling their five-minute warning chime by the time I reached the square outside the Pizarr. It grates my nerves, that constant “bing-bong” toll of bloodshed. I clasped my bow tightly and gritted my teeth to prevent myself from going mad right there in the square. My fingers started up a nervous drumming on my thigh, and to get my mind off of the booming promise of death, I focused on the Pizarr.  
It is magnificent in size, and beautiful. Were I a stranger in this land, I would have thought it to be a place where affairs of state are held. It has that proper yet grand appearance. It is unfortunate that I am not a visitor. I know what I look at is the most entrancing fortress ever- a glorious prison built by the rich to mock the poor who enter it, some to never leave. Miles down the road its twin rises up, and I know that there will be thousands of girls gathered there. Thousands of women and thousands of men, and yet not a single Soliv is in either of these crowds with weapons ready- ready to kill others as they go person against person, brother against brother, in a fight where it is survival of the fittest.  
It’s terrifying, how bloodbaths so horrific can occur in places so serenely beautiful. The Pizarr’s are the most magnificent buildings anyone alive has ever seen. They are a work of art that is impossible to recreate; their walls rise so high, I sometimes wonder if they really do have an end, or if they stretch on to infinity instead. Just as quickly as their onyx walls rise, they turn inwards so that they are at an angle. There are towers on the four corners of both of the Pizarr’s, each with a stately looking jaguar gracing the top- the symbol for my nation. Jewels glimmer brightly, even in the dull light that is proffered by the clouds. They line the entire castle’s edge, making a spectacular showing of it. In the dull sunlight they still glisten, casting out their shades of silver, purple and emerald onto the sorry crowd beneath them.  
I snap out of my reverie in time to hear the two-minute warning bell sounding out across the kingdom. Guards started to gather around the mob, forcing everyone to press in on each other. As they did that, I began to prepare myself for what was about to come. I took deep breaths, unsure of when I would next need the air. I strummed my bowstring, checking for possibly the tenth time that morning to be certain that it would hold. Satisfied as I would ever get, I stood patiently with the crowd, waiting for that moment when they herded us in, the helpless cows to their slaughterhouse.   
As the one-minute bell sounded out the gates begin to slowly creak open. I hadn't even stepped inside yet, and already I can hear the screams of those who will fall beneath my arrows. It fills my head, the noise circling around and around until it seems like in my whole entire life, screams are the only thing that I have ever heard. Maybe this time the halls of the Pizarr will be filled with my own screams, and I can find peace.   
DING. The bell finally gave off that magical noise, sending its ripple over the crowd; I watched as everybody around me shivered, effected by the bells monstrous tone. Us Provien’s have learned to respect and fear that noise, for it is the noise that has the power to make men pick up arms and murder each other in cold blood, totaling in the thousands each year. It is possibly the most terrifying thing I have ever known, that such a simple object could have such power over men. With that last fatal toll, the gate fully opens and the crowd flooded in. 

We all begin to file into a wide auditorium, vying to get ahead of one another. Used to the routine by now, we take our places, settling in for the long speech that we all know is about to commence. Right on cue the speaker, Frien Mulark, steps up to the podium.   
“People of Provien, welcome to this years Marking. We, the Soliv’s, are delighted that you could show up to this very important event. Looking out at all these faces, I can tell that it is going to be yet another great year.   
“Since the rise of our great nation, the people of Provien have gathered together to hold the Callas. It is a distinction of honor for those who survive- for those who enter and leave prove themselves strong, tactical, and loyal to the God’s.  
“To hold the Marking has been the tradition every year for over a hundred years. It has gained Provien much- it has brought our land peace, prosperity and fertile fields. It assures us that there will be enough money and food for all. The Marking is the reason we can all live so comfortably, but it offers much more than posh lifestyles. It has also thinned out the weak and frail from the strong and able. This is the blessing that the Marking offers us. To all the good citizen’s of Provien here today, I would like to say one thing- thank you. Thank you for allowing another year of entertainment and sacrifice to the Gods. I am sure, looking out at all you strong men, that this year will be especially thrilling. I am certain that, just as myself, my counterpart’s and the God’s cannot wait to see what this years Marking has in store.” I listen for the first few minutes, but eventually I start to drift off. The speech is the same every year, and it is never important anyways. Why subject myself to the torture of hearing all the lies that they profess as truths yet again?  
I came back to myself in time to hear the end of Frien’s well-phrased lie. “Blessings to you all, and may the God’s be with you on this historical day.” he finished.  
Having said that last traditional phrase that tells everyone they could stop daydreaming, he turned around and walked out, leaving us all alone to get up and stretch. We have five minutes to say goodbye to anyone we wish and form alliances. Everybody has their own routine in these few moments, though: some people will curl up and cry, thinking of what is to come, some will stare pointlessly at a wall, having already given up hope and not being sure of what else to do, and some will pace back and forth, preparing themselves for the blood they will have to spill in less than a hours time.   
Already the older and more experienced players are setting to work intimidating the new meat. Knives are thrown, flashing past noses by mere centimeters, and arrows are pointed in the little ones general direction as bowstrings are threateningly plucked. While kids are not the main threat to those who have been in here for more than half their lives, they are still a force that must be eliminated. You do want as little competition as possible when the game is your life. So, while it’s barbaric to frighten the people who are most likely to die, and push them to the place beyond hope, it doesn’t matter. In the end what does matter is that if they successfully put fear into the children, it will mean less competition. The maze changes people; they can go in as pure as water, and they will leave dirtied and dark. It comes down to the desire to survive, and not many people are willing to give up their lives.   
To survive in here, unorthodox methods are required. It’s yet another way the Soliv’s keep the Provien’s under their boots- we are infuriated with each other because every time we look at each other we see all the faces of our loved ones who died in here. When this happens it’s hard not to wonder if the person we’re looking at is the killer. We are a tragically divided people. This disunion just makes it easier to cut each other down, and in turn makes it easier to loathe each other. It’s a vicious cycle that only gets worse as time passes and each new Callas is held. So, in every way I would be smarter to show the younger children my ability to kill; it would mean that much less rivalry in the maze, and when it comes down to a fight they would be so nervous from having seen me in action they’d end up making mistakes that would cost them their lives. But having been in their shoes before, I would no longer be able to consider myself human. What I will die to save, what matters the most to me with the exception of my mother, is my soul.  
“Eisem, Eisem!” I heard my name being called. Recognizing the voice, I turned to face the closest thing I have to a friend- Rosh. I watched him as he trotted towards me and knew instantly that something was off. The goofy smile that is his trademark is gone. I have to look him up and down just to be sure it is really him. Same dark brown hair, same blue eyes, same athletic build and as far as I could tell the same exact face, yet in every way he is strikingly different.  
“Hello, Rosh.” I replied as I sized him up. I am confused by why he is talking to me. Obviously something is wrong, but what? As far as I know, the only reason he would talk to me today is if he wants to unite and form an alliance. Seeing as we both preferred to fight independently, and we’ve never fought together in all our years, an alliance doesn’t seem likely. This is all not accounting for my moods, which he knows very well. So what does he want? I wondered.  
“My sister, Izerjia, is nine.” He said to me. I nodded and shifted uncomfortably. Nine is the age where kids officially became eligible to take part in the Callas. It is a sad fact of life that kids so young have to take part in these deadly trials, and usually it is something we become quickly used to. The difference is that Izerjia is the only family Rosh has left. If she dies, he might as well be dead himself. I would know- my mother is my last living relative as well, and I fear losing her more than anything.  
He looked at me and saw that I was not going to reply. I should have feel guilty, I suppose, but in moments like these there isn’t a lot you can say. “I’m sorry” and “those damn Soliv’s” just don’t seem like appropriate responses to the fact that, in just three nights time, he could be the only one left in his lineage.   
He continued on, having given up hope on me interjecting anything. “I was thinking that maybe… maybe we could team up with some of the younger kids.” I looked at him in amazement and began to open my mouth in shock.  
“What good would that do!” I asked incredulously.   
“I know, I know what you’re thinking,” he rushed on. “But just consider it. There are a lot of them. The only ones that are going to be able to team up with others are those that have older siblings here. That’s not even half of these kids! We would have a big group- bigger than any of the others. That could be a helpful advantage in here. Plus, they’re small. They can hide places, GO places that we can’t- they could be useful in setting up traps! Eisem, it’s a good plan.”  
I glare at him, “I don’t thi-  
“Please Eisem,” Rosh cut me off, “consider it. Consider it, damn you! You know they could help us. Besides, what about their families… Izerjia going to her first Callas made me realize how much it hurts to lose a person so young and loved. People who are supposed to have years of life left should be given the opportunity to experience every one of them. It’s the worst feeling ever, Eisem, to have to mourn someone so early in their life, and I don’t even know I’ve lost her yet. We can spare these kids families that despair.” he pleaded desperately.  
“I understand, but it’s too much of a risk- for both of us. If you’re so set on forming a group with a bunch of inexperienced babies who have only learned about the events that take place in here, then fine. Go ahead. Don’t ask me to jump off the mountain with you.”  
“I would, but Eisem I can’t be the only one leading them. They’re young and obstinate still. I need someone to assist me with keeping them in line. You’re the only one I know who would help me with this. Just help me this once, I promise you that it will work. Choose quickly- our time is almost up.”  
I shot him a glare that let him know how much I despised him. How he could ask me to make this decision and still call himself my friend, I don't know. He is forcing me to admit that I am okay with letting little ones die. It isn't exactly like I can join them, not unless I want to die myself; there are far too many liabilities for survival. If I join them I will be putting my head underneath a falling ax, yet by leaving them to their own devices I will be sacrificing my soul.  
I came to my decision. “The answer is no.” I responded icily. I watched his face droop as he slowly turned around to shamble off. He went up to a group of about two hundred kids, and I watched as he shook his head no. I saw their faces as they heard the news- they mirrored his. It’s like I could see all the hope being ripped out of them, and for a second my heart reached out to all those young people who shouldn’t have been here. I quickly reined in my wayward feelings- I can't have them right now. Sentiments like I am having get you killed in here.   
The bell rang and I turned to go through the double doors that open out into the actual maze; we are given ten minutes to spread out and separate ourselves the best we can. Before I have the chance to turn away, I see the kids one last time. They are slumped over, walking through the crowd when they should be running like everyone else. Rosh is doing his best to get them to move faster, shouting at them and even nudging a few, but they adamantly refuse to listen. They carry on at the same slow drudge as before, barely flinching at his touch. To have hope given to you and then so quickly snatched is the worst kind of loss imaginable, and that is what I just did to them. They have already taken a quill and signed themselves to the executioners list, resigning themselves to an early death. In this maze that is yet another thing that will get people killed. When there is an absence of hope, there is no will to fight. I sighed to myself. If I let them go into the maze like this, they will have less than no chance. Then all of their deaths will be on me, I silently complained. I started pushing against the crowd to get through to them. By some miracle I made it through to where they were without getting trampled, and managed to squirm my way over to Rosh.  
“So, I hear they’re handy when it comes to setting up traps. That means they’re going to stay out of the way but still manage to be helpful, right?” I queried.  
He laughed. “They’ll do whatever we ask of them now that you’re here. I think they were about to disband completely,” he got serious after that. “Thank you,” he said gravely, looking me in the eyes.  
I grunted in reply.  
After that I focused on the group. “Come on, you sorry lot. We’ve lost time, which is precious here and cannot be made up. We do not want to be in the back- if we fall behind now we have no chance of getting any of the prizes. Those are key to surviving the Maze. If we get even one, we are almost guaranteed to make it out alive. So, we’re going to run- run like the Gods themselves are on our tail wielding absorbers and spurners. If anyone falls behind, YOU WILL BE left behind. Now move!” With that we all began to sprint forward, pushing our way through the crowd. As I was talking I had been urging them forward so we would not lose anymore ground. Now I simply concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Like this, we charged forward into our doom.


	3. Entering the Devil's Lair

Chapter 3: Entering the Devil’s Home  
We have been running for about fifteen minutes. The alarm that lets everyone know the killing can commence had long ago gone off.  
I am impressed with how well everyone is doing. None of the kids look to be above the age of twelve, yet they all manage to keep up with Rosh and me. We have both been keeping ourselves in the best shape we can for about sixteen years. Most of these kids look like they sleep all night and then nap all day- that they can match our pace either boded ill for us or well for them. Either way, it gave me hope that this suicide mission might actually work.   
I think part of the reason they are able to keep up is that they actually believed my speech. Here no one wants to be alone, and that is what I have promised them if they are to tire and fall behind; I have promised them the nightmare of being abandoned.  
We have not run into anyone as of yet, but we will soon enough. The maze is too crowded for us not to, and since no one knows the path to the towers (where the key weapons are hid) we all wander in discordant paths. With over thirty thousand people in the Maze, the odds are not good for a group so big.   
I looked over at Rosh and caught his attention. He nodded his head and I raised my hand.  
“Everybody halt!” I shouted. They all stopped and looked at me with a mixture of confusion and relief.   
“Listen up! It is important that you understand why I stopped you. We are getting close to the point in the maze where the towers are more likely to be found- because of this, the traps become less obvious and more dangerous. You also have a much better chance of running into other players looking for the towers.”  
“How did you know that this is the place where you want to start being cautious?” one person asked skeptically.  
“Boy, I’ve been doing this for seven years. How do you think I knew?” I parried.  
When I didn’t get an answer, I continued, “Look, both Rosh and me have been competing in this Maze for most of our lives. We know as much about this place as we do ourselves- its dangers, its tricks and, most importantly, how to find the weapons that are key to survival. This is where we separate ourselves from just any team to a true alliance. If we work together now I guarantee that we can all survive. But we have to trust each other. This is a double effort. Rosh and me have faith in all of you; we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.” I saw Rosh start to grin at this, and I had to force myself to keep a straight face, recalling my reluctance to join. I could not let them see that I still felt like I was committing suicide- now was the time to help their morale, not crush it.  
I continued on, “We have faith in you, so I’m asking you to have faith in us. If you do, I promise you, you will all see your families again.” I looked out at them, making sure I kept my face serious, “Each and every one of you.” they all nodded and looked back at me solemnly. I took this as a good sign.  
“Now that we understand this, there are a few things you should know. This maze is meant to kill you, and is designed so that it can do that easily. We haven’t seen many as of yet, but as we get deeper we will begin to see countless traps, and they’ll only get deadlier as we go. We’ll also begin to run into more people. To make sure we can hear others coming our way and that they don’t hear us, we are going to be as quiet as possible. We are a big group, so we’re not asking for perfection. Obviously we’re going to make noise. However, you will try your best, or you will no longer be welcome with us. This means no talking, and no bouncing around like a person on jaja, got it?” I saw a couple of them laugh and smiled reassuringly in return. At least they all had good senses of humor.  
“So, here’s the deal. You keep quiet and help Rosh and me with the traps and we will do our part, which includes teaching you the ins and outs of the maze and keeping you alive. This is a team effort; where one person lacks, we all lack. Do you understand? Good.”  
Rosh interjected. “One last thing. Hidden in the walls are some low-level weapons. They’re nothing spectacular, but they are helpful. You can tell where they are because the stone they are hidden behind will bare an almost imperceptible mark on it that looks like a rising sun. Eisem and me will be keeping our eyes open for them, but our main goal is to find the towers so we’ll be moving fast and might miss something. If you see it, you are to get our attention. We’ll handle it from there. Now, let’s keep moving. We’re losing time.” with that we started to creep forward.  
We had just reached the end of a path when Rosh stopped and made a circular motion around his ear- I hear something. He held up his hand to the kids to get them to stop, then motioned for them to keep quiet. Creeping up to the bend, Rosh peered around the corner. He drew back immediately and held up three fingers. I nodded to show my understanding. Three people around the bend, I thought to myself as I nocked my arrow. I signaled to the kids to stay put, knowing we could take the people with no issue on our own. Pulling back on the bowstring and holding my bow up to show I was ready, we jumped out from behind the corner. In a second I saw all of them; it wasn’t exactly difficult, they were all gathered around one spot on the wall. One of them was beginning to take out his knife to prick his finger. Immediately I realized he had found a hidden weapon and was trying to get to it. I couldn’t let that happen. Raising my arms, I took aim at the farthest one. I released my string, sending my arrow flying. At the same time as I released my arrow Rosh rushed towards the nearest man, brandishing his knife. He leapt at the guy, tackling him to the floor and pinning him before he even had a chance to blink.  
"Let the Callas commence." I said grimly, already knocking another arrow.


End file.
